


Murder by Death

by distantstarlight



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angry John, Angst and Humor, Awkward Boners, BAMF John, Best Friends, Bullying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Devotion, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Don't Judge Me, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gay For You, Getting to Know Each Other, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, Not!Gay, OOC Sherlock, POV John Watson, Sad Sherlock, Self Confidence Issues, Sexual Content, Sherlock Holmes and Feelings, The Author Regrets Nothing, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 10:12:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1424686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantstarlight/pseuds/distantstarlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes has come back from wherever he was after he faked his death and lives back at 221 B with his best friend, Doctor John Watson. Life has settled back into it's old routine and life becomes a little more interesting for the duo when a small internet comedy is released.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Murder by Death

**Author's Note:**

> Before you read this fic please glory in the pure GENIUS that is:
> 
> Oklahomo - a fantastic parody of Sherlock (BBC) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vPLsFTOpCRU
> 
> After you've recovered please take a few minutes to watch:
> 
> Mind Phallus - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4aMU4g2B_Wo
> 
> to the creators of these little gems I want to MARRY you and dedicate all my writing skill to the continuation of your parodies. Thank you for gifting the universe with the best Johnlock funnies I have ever seen.

[Oklahomo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vPLsFTOpCRU)

[Mind Phallus](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4aMU4g2B_Wo)

 

 

John sat at the table with his fingers clenched tight around his mobile. He was furious, embarrassed, irritated and now, entirely frustrated. “The check!” he snapped at the server who was approaching his table with yet another offer of beverages. John paid and left as quickly as he decently could. Stomping down the streets John made it six blocks before he looked at his mobile again.

His date had cancelled. She hadn’t even given a reason and John had waited for her for over half an hour after their reservation had been called. They’d seated him, earning him a lot of strange looks and John had waited awkwardly until his phone cheeped. John had thought it was Sherlock on his first round of cock-blocking text messages but it wasn’t. It was Ava. “Won’t be making it.” was all the text had said. John didn’t bother replying. He wasn’t going to chase after anyone who had made him sit there for nothing! It had taken a favor to get those reservations too. What a waste.

John began walking again at a tight clip, fully aware that his limp was coming back and there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it. It only happened in times like these, when John was stressed and alone. It never happened on cases no matter how hairy it got, John’s body was steady and dependable as his unshakable faith in Sherlock’s ability to solve the mystery. This was the fifth time John had been blown off but at least the others had the grace to cancel before John went out to meet them. This was the worst stand-up yet and John just didn’t know what to make of it.

Ava had been so beautiful and so interested in John. Her laughter was sweet and her dark curls framed her pale face perfectly and her arse! John had been hoping Ava would grant him permission eventually to enjoy that. After being stood-up so rudely though? _No chance now. Not if she begged! Twice!_ John stormed through the streets for a long time before he realized he had been walking further and further away from Baker Street in anger. His hip was killing him so he flagged down a taxi and glumly went home.

John felt better the second he crossed the threshold. He counted the steps as he went up, as always, stepping around the creak on the third to last step. John wasn’t convinced that it wasn’t the wood splitting and he wasn’t going to be the one who plummeted through it! After five years the creak continued and the step remained unbroken but John had just grown used to making that side-step. It was one of those little things that made Baker Street unique.

When John stepped into 221 B he relaxed. It smelled like home and he was instantly comforted, his glum mood dissipating as he viewed Sherlock lying limply on the sofa. The tall pale detective was simply boneless at times. He took up the entire sofa, even draping one arm over the back and another one down the side to use as much property as possible as he lounged. “Bored John.” he intoned flatly. “Drugs.”

“Why do you always ask for drugs? Have I ever given you any?” John knew Sherlock was just winding him up on purpose. That was Sherlock’s thing these days, winding John up. He did it all the time now. John went to the kitchen and Sherlock followed him. Sagging over John’s back Sherlock draped himself onto the doctor, “Bored John. How was your date? I’m actually interested. That’s how bored I am.” There was a long pause between words and Sherlock’s lips smacked on the last letter ‘m’.

John held himself up on the counter and counted to ten. Sherlock had come back to life a very different man. He seemed to need a lot of affection now, physical affection. It was like owning a clingy house-cat that weighed 65 kilos. Sherlock was incredibly spare for a tall man but he was still a lot bigger than John. When he invaded John’s personal space no amount of protests could peel him off. John had learned to just put up with it. “She stood me up.”

“What a bitch.” said Sherlock lazily from where his head was resting on John’s, John snorted a laugh. It was always funny to hear the very posh and properly spoken Sherlock using foul language. “She clearly has no taste.”

Sherlock idled away back to the living room to wait for his tea. John put together a plate of sandwiches too. At least now when Sherlock was bored he only stooped to outrageous demands instead of devastating acts of personal destruction. Asking for drugs was soon followed with a one-sided conversation about other drugs that were currently available and all their various desirable qualities. John drank his tea.

Sherlock ate his sandwiches as soon as John sat down beside him, hooking his long legs over John’s lap as he lay back to eat lying down. As soon as he wolfed down his food he flipped over and snuggled into John’s lap, his arms snaking around John’s waist possessively. John put up with it because as annoying as it was to be cuddled by a man-sized tarantula it was far better than Sherlock shooting through the walls, poisoning the food in the fridge or signing his brother up for mail-order brides.

Sherlock also smelled nice but John told himself that wasn’t why he tolerated the complete invasion of privacy. John had secretly always wanted a cat but his mother had been allergic and then John had been in the army. Sherlock practically purred when John scratched his head as they watched movies in the evening. John knew this wasn’t technically appropriate behavior of flatmates or even good friends, even best friends as they clearly were, but that didn’t stop him from indulging Sherlock’s new need to be snuggled endlessly. At least someone wanted to get close to John Watson even if it was a six foot sociopath.

The other reason John let Sherlock behave as he did was the night terrors. Not John’s, Sherlock’s. Sherlock woke screaming in the night time and again and wouldn’t stop until John stumbled down from his bed to join his friend, allowing Sherlock to clutch him in the dark as the tall bony man shook and tried not to cry. He never told John what he screamed about but hung onto his doctor with a grip that threatened to bruise. John never complained. Sherlock took comfort in John’s presence and only John’s. Around anyone else Sherlock was easily startled, becoming almost feral, ruder than ever and completely paranoid. If John was there then things were just like days of old so Lestrade had quickly learned to call both of them together, always together.

The Work took up most of John’s life now but he still worked at the clinic one or two shifts a week. It was as close to a social life as he got. He’d met his last three dates there and he realized he couldn’t keep it up. Deciding to not ask anyone from work out John just did his shifts and came back alone to 221 B night after night. Sherlock was always waiting. Ava had been John’s final attempt at dating. “She was an idiot John. If she stood you up she’s clearly defective. I’d never stand up a chance to go on a date with a man like you. Defective, I guarantee it.” Sherlock patted John’s knee and went back to watching Top Gear.

Two weeks later John broke his resolve when Jessica asked him out. She had a great smile, lush black hair and a lovely long neck. Half way through the appetizer Jessica complimented John on his outfit and asked how things were going between himself and Sherlock. John was flabbergasted when she continued without waiting for an answer, “I hope I meet someone I can be special to, just like your Sherlock is special to you. It’s beautiful. You two are great together.” John mentally reviewed all the conversation that had led to dinner out and groaned softly. She had the wrong idea entirely! So much for getting laid tonight!

Sherlock texted just then and demanded that John meet him for a case. John excused himself apologetically but Jessica just looked misty and touched, “Off you go John. Don’t keep him waiting.” and sent John off with a fond smile. John stormed away after paying the bill. This hadn’t been a date! Jessica thought John was gay and just wanted an evening out with a pal. John raged as he made his way the crime scene. This wasn’t even Sherlock’s fault this time, he hadn’t interfered at all! In fact, Sherlock had saved John possible awkwardness by calling him away before John pulled his moves out after the meal. It had been such a long time since John had had sex with anyone but himself and he was getting sick of it! This night was a wash!

Lestrade was waiting. “Hurry up John. Sherlock’s in there alone with the body, Anderson and Donovan. I don’t want to be discovering fresh corpses!” John hurried and got there just in time to keep Sherlock from speaking.

“Hey! I’m here! Back off Donovan, Anderson. You know the drill. Shutting it and turning away……now.” both their mouths closed into matching frowns but they turned their backs and let Sherlock get back to examining the crime scene as John watched over him. Sherlock looked the scene over and stood up, rattling off a string of deductions he’d made based on the moisture level of the coffee stain on the victim’s left sleeve, a tear of the fabric on the bottom of their jacket and then pointed out the rather obvious set of large foot-prints that lead to the body and away again. John held back a chuckle as Sherlock rounded the entire crime up with an offer to tutor Anderson on forensic technique. Anderson refused.

John smiled proudly at Sherlock who just preened. He slouched immediately into his uncaring face the second the others began to turn back to look. John tucked his smile away and followed Sherlock back to 221 B. “Amazing again Sherlock, just incredible. We couldn’t have been there for more than half an hour!” Sherlock smiled happily and threw himself onto the sofa as soon as John hung his coat up for him.

“How was dinner?” asked Sherlock who was humming and settling into the sofa. He turned himself about several times before he was finally comfortable and went boneless all over again. John laughed softly as Sherlock simply oozed into the cushions.

“A complete bust, you called me away just in time.” Sherlock hummed in understanding and settled himself down once more after fetching himself the remote to wait for tea and John. John thought about what Jessica had said. She firmly believed that John was dating Sherlock.

“Jessica apparently thinks we’re a couple and wants me to be her gay-guy pal. You called me away just before I did or said anything embarrassing so thanks I suppose.” There was a lot of silence but John was busy making a light supper to go with tea instead of just ordering take-away one more night. While he cooked John considered his relationship with his best friend and the compared it to how John would treat a girlfriend. He swallowed hard when he found very few differences.

John wined and dined Sherlock, he got him little thoughtful gifts – that last set of new slides had gone over well. Sherlock had a particular brand he liked to use but it was a bother acquiring them. John had noticed he was running low and had arranged to get them for the detective as a surprise. Sherlock didn’t care for flowers but once when there had been a particularly long dry spell between cases John had purchased Sherlock a pack of his favorite cigarettes as a treat. Sherlock promised not to start smoking full time again and hid himself on the fire-escape to enjoy them slowly. They lasted all the way until a new interesting case had broken out and Sherlock didn’t try to destroy the flat even once.

Sherlock was no help, “I could do worse than managing to land _Three Continents Watson_. Mummy would be so proud if I brought a doctor home.” both men giggled. Mummy Holmes was not a fan of Sherlock’s life as a detective or John for enabling it. The first few times John had met her had been brief sessions of icy disapproval that she handed out liberally to both men. John had softened her up after a bit and now had a grudgingly neutral association with the silvery old lady. After all their years together John and Sherlock were accustomed to everyone finding their lives to be a little difficult to comprehend. They were two of a kind, the only people they knew who wanted to throw themselves into the crucible again and again simply for the thrill.

“You’re a terrible boyfriend then. You let me go out on dates with other people! What does that say about me?” exclaimed John dramatically and both men laughed heartily at their jokes. “Seriously though, I think I’m done trying to date. I’m going to die alone.”

Sherlock sighed, “Me too. Alone. With you. Probably here in 221 B. No one will even notice until Mycroft discovers that we haven’t paid the rent.” Both men started laughing at the macabre image. Sometimes their dark humor startled or offended other people but John and Sherlock faced death together so many times that it was almost like seeing an old friend and they did not fear it.

“Well as long as it’s with you I don’t mind dying alone. It’s a deal.” John set his tea tray down. Dinner would be ready in an hour and he needed to relax. Sherlock sat up to collect his tea but sagged against John who snaked his arm around Sherlock’s shoulders. He’d really missed Sherlock while he had been faking death. John had grieved and not coped well but had bounced right back as soon as Sherlock reappeared, though his girlfriend at the time had not been happy about the changes in John.

It was kind of awkward about Mary though but at least that had ended fairly quickly. She had lasted only two weeks after Sherlock’s resurrection. A case had come up, both men had chased after it with Mary in tow and she had seen them in action, working flawlessly together until the case was solved. Three days later she told John it was off between them, given back the ring she’d only worn for a few days, packed her bags and left him with an empty house and no answers. Guiltily John had sub-let the house and moved back almost furtively to Baker Street where Mrs. Hudson baked him a welcome home cake and Sherlock played the violin for the whole evening. John didn’t miss Mary for more than a few days and he wondered about that now.

The Work was intense. John felt the same zest for it he always did. Chasing down filthy alleys with Sherlock and that great bloody coat flapping in front of him were some of John’s favorite memories. Sherlock was brilliant; there just wasn’t another word to describe him. John’s genius best friend could pick out the most obscure details; weave them together to complete a picture that was completely hidden from everyone else. It always amazed John and impressed him, being on the cases made John feel vital and so alive. His praise made Sherlock happy and the genius worked better when he was happy so he kept John close. They thrived on each other.

John realized that he and Sherlock were hideously co-dependent. John needed to take care of Sherlock, and Sherlock needed John to take care of him. They were a closed system. No potential girl-friend had a chance. John didn’t know quite how to deal with his feelings on the matter. _He wasn’t gay, he just wasn’t_. Even now with Sherlock curled up tight against him John felt no sexual stirrings, nothing. He ran experimental fingers through Sherlock’s curls, the man purring and collapsing into John’s lap exactly like a cat. John liked it but that was it. He just liked it.

Sherlock’s phone made a muffled noise. It was still in his pants pocket and instead of getting up to fish it out Sherlock did a rather rude looking wiggle and twist routine to free it. Head still on John’s lap Sherlock looked, “Lestrade sent us a video. John. Put it on your laptop.”

John got up and let Sherlock’s head thump down onto the sofa without a word. Ignoring the grumble of protest John got his laptop and came back. He sat right back down in his normal spot, narrowly missing Sherlock’s head because the git wouldn’t move out of John’s way. He did though, especially when John didn’t slow down. He was sitting, even if it meant sitting on Sherlock’ big fat head. Working for a minute John failed to accomplish anything.

Sherlock sat up with a sigh and took John’s laptop. Transferring the file smoothly the men sat side by side to watch it. John was grinning. Then he giggled. By the time they got to the end of the less than four minute show he was laughing outright. Sherlock was entirely silent and glaring at the screen. Pressing repeat Sherlock watched it again, his eyes darting here and there as he took in the layers of detail.

Someone had read John’s blog and had made a movie short about their casework. They’d inferred a lot about how Sherlock operated, combined it with what they’d decided John was like and had come up with a hysterically implication filled bit of funny that ended with a kiss. “They’re mocking me John! I’m not this irrational! All of my experiments have solid scientific basis behind them, they’re not spurious!”

John was laughing, “Murder by _death_ hahahahahahahaha! Those websites, you actually DO look at websites like that! HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“John, you wank to videos of women exercising. I at least look for actual sex for my material. Fisting? Seriously? Mycroft would never let me forget if I ever made a texting error like that!”

“ _VAGINAFACE_ ” shouted John when the word came up again. They looked around. There were all sorts of tags and Sherlock immediately clicked onto “Johnlock”. They stared at the screen. There were thousands upon thousands of listings! There were images and gifs, blogs, and whole sites filled with nothing but stories about their relationship. John was astounded but Sherlock was fascinated.

“Look John, we’re vampires in this one. Pirates! They’ve made me a pirate! I don’t really understand that tentacle thing but bees! Look how many times bees come up! I’m going to read some of these.” Sherlock began bookmarking a huge list of stories to read. John was not so excited. _No wonder so many people believed firmly that John was dating Sherlock. Some of these stories dated back to when John first began his blog! What kind of people did this and for fun?_

Still, until now not a bit of it had troubled John or Sherlock. In fact, now that he looked, he could see several ones that dealt with his time alone when he had thought Sherlock was dead. It was sort of touching really. These strangers had felt John’s hurt and had responded to it. It wasn’t their fault John hadn’t even realized he might possibly have feelings for Sherlock. _Wait. What?_ John rewound his internal monologue and decided there must have been a glitch. _He did not have romantic feelings for Sherlock Holmes. Best friend feelings yes, romantic feelings no_.

They watched the video clip again. Sherlock snorted and tried not to laugh. The detective nodded sagaciously when the body was examined, “He is definitely gay, look at the way his hair is styled and those shoes!” John snorted out another laugh and both men burst out laughing when the characters kissed.

“I wonder what the Yarders would do if we actually behaved like that?” mused John. Sherlock played it one more time. It wasn’t so funny this time round especially since John’s character didn’t seem to do very much and the film-makers had spent a lot of time making fun of Sherlock’s character. Sherlock was laughing merrily by the end but John’s laughter had dried up.

Early the next afternoon Lestrade called them. He was at a crime scene with DI Dimmock; the scene was at the border of their respective territories. Lestrade sounded grim, “Get down here both of you.” John and Sherlock took a taxi right to the crime scene where a man’s body was face-down in a courtyard. Sherlock swept the scene one careful step at a time. John stood along the edge with the Yarders. Donovan called out, “So what is it? Murder by death?”

John was startled. _Sally had watched the video?_ Then Anderson chuckled, “Hey Sherlock, gay or not gay? What can you tell us about the victim? Was he one of yours?” Sherlock had walked slower and slower until now he was standing there with his back to the Yarders. John saw his fists were clenched and with a glare at everyone, including the silently smiling Lestrade John went over to stand beside Sherlock.

John had never seen Sherlock so upset and trying so hard to hide it. Softly the tall man said, “They’re mocking me John. They think I’m a joke.” John wasn’t impressed with the behavior of the so-called professionals behind him. _Sherlock was an incredible detective; he’d solved countless crimes and saved dozens of lives. He deserved more respect than this!_ Anderson and Donovan were the worst but clearly everyone, even the emergency personnel had seen that blasted video! All of them were laughing as they watched Sherlock and John, and the call-outs didn’t cease.

The Yarders were having a great day. Lestrade’s silence seemed to give licence for everyone to give a bit of a shout toward the pair. They joked about Sherlock’s coat flare. They teased John about how he followed Sherlock so closely. Sherlock was gray-faced and miserable when they made recommendations for gay porn websites for Sherlock to visit when he had some downtime and John had had enough.

“Do you have enough to solve?” asked John quietly. _The soldier needed to leave or he would be charged for multiple homicides!_ Sherlock nodded a bit raggedly, “Right. Give Lestrade what you’ve got and let’s get the fuck out of here. We’re done doing their work for them.” John was silently furious. Sherlock’s face blanked out as he assumed his most expressionless mask. Pretending he couldn’t hear the continuing jeers and laughter around them Sherlock laid out the crime for Lestrade and Dimmock, then let John lead him away while the idiots behind them shouted, “Jump kiss, jump kiss!”

Sherlock went straight to his room and locked himself in. John stormed around the flat, making tea and setting out a plate of Sherlock’s favorite biscuits. While the kettle boiled John checked his blog and his heart just sank. It was filled with mocking remarks regarding the amusing video, all submitted by various Yarders beginning but not ending with Donovan. The harassing observations were then followed with several reproachful comments from fans. More than a few hopeful clients expressed disappointment, stating that they had assumed Sherlock was a serious detective and not an entertainer and since he was such they were withdrawing their case requests. The damage was stunning and spreading rapidly as the web took the rumor that Sherlock wasn’t actually a detective all around the globe. John was appalled as he thought, “All of this in a single afternoon?”

Using the key he’d had made for Sherlock’s bedroom door John let himself in and found Sherlock curled up on the bed with his arms wrapped tight around himself and his head stuffed under his pillow. His mobile was on the floor where he’d thrown it; it was open to their blog. Sherlock had seen the comments and he was incredibly upset. His voice was muffled but clear, “I can’t help being gay John! I don’t force it on other people. I don’t even date, you know that. It shouldn’t even matter how I’m oriented. All I want to do is The Work. It’s taken me so long to build up my professional reputation, and suddenly it’s gone.”

John wanted to kill someone. _Sherlock was devastated. No one else cared that they’d sabotaged his friend’s professional reputation!_ Only John seemed to really realize that Sherlock and The Work were inseparable. Sherlock had dedicated himself to it with the same kind of all-embracing intent as a monk, faithful and devoted. John understood and respected it. He revered The Work nearly as much. Sherlock needed some privacy to pull himself together so John said, “Listen, I’ve got to go out for a bit and get some things done. I’m going to bring back something for dinner, what do you want?”

Sherlock’s answer would tell John a lot. He wasn’t a fussy eater but timing was everything. Sherlock’s moods dictated his appetite except when he was on a case and refused to eat for days at a time. When John and Sherlock didn’t work John noticed that Sherlock tended towards different classes of food depending on how he was feeling, not that he ever admitted to having feelings. John knew very well Sherlock did and understood the signs, “Fish and chips, if you please John.”

 _Oh god it was worse than John feared! Pub food and Sherlock had said ‘please’, the man was falling apart!_ John’s fury raged again. He’d pick up a pack of cigarettes too as well as a funny lighter if he could find one before he came home. Sherlock needed comfort, “Right. I’ll be gone for a bit so stay home!”

Sherlock nodded and curled up tighter on the bed. John left the plate of biscuits and hot tea on the side-table. “Thank you very much John. I really appreciate you making tea for me.” John was horrified. _Sherlock was a mess!_ The soldier turned on his heel and walked away from his best friend and left 221 B Baker Street.

John raged into NSY like a tiny storm. He howled his way into the inner recesses until the soldier exploded into the office of one very startled DI Lestrade and his meeting with DI Dimmock. John started shouting immediately, bristling and nearly growling, “You are a pair of arses, the both of you! Lestrade! What were you thinking? Why would you let your team do that to Sherlock? His reputation is _ruined_ now do you understand? Your band of idiots posted all over my blog and now Sherlock’s business is done for! He’s lost all credibility! _Done for!_ You’ve fucked him over Lestrade and for what? A cheap fucking laugh? Do you understand that Sherlock really is gay? He refuses to date because he wants to center on The Work. Do you understand that? Would you do that for your job? Give up all human contact because you felt it was more important to focus on something that helps other people? How many cases has he solved for free, not even taking credit for solving them, can you even count that high? Lestrade! Sherlock killed himself for you, you ungrateful wanker! Two fucking years he was on the run to save your fucking life and this is how you thanked him? He’s a recovering drug addict so I’m sure your back-stabbing behavior will really support his struggle to remain clean. Very nice, very nice indeed! Dimmock, take those fucking stim-tabs out of your pocket and throw them away. I can see the signs of addiction all over you. Get some fucking help!”

John wasn’t done. He blew out of Lestrade’s office and into Donovan’s, “You ignorant cow! What kind of school-yard bully were you? What the fuck is wrong with your sense of right and wrong Sally Donovan? You sabotaged the life-work of a man who has never done you harm! Where do you get off thinking that you’re somehow a better human being than Sherlock Holmes? You persist in sleeping with not only someone who is married to someone else but is a co-worker! What about the no-fraternizing rules of NSY? Or don’t you follow the rules Sally? I guess you get to pick and choose how you please but Sherlock does not! No, you can’t even begin to understand someone as incredible as Sherlock and it eats you up inside because no matter how hard you try, no matter how long you work you will never in your entire career be as brilliant as Sherlock is in a single day!”

Jock whirled into Anderson’s lab and began shouting at the man as soon as he laid eyes on him, “ _You prat!_ Half those comments were from you, you _twat!_ I should kick your arse all over this building except that I don’t want your slime on my shoe, you worm! I used to stop Sherlock from tying into you because no one can be a smart as him but you! You are an ignorant knuckle-dragging walking recessive gene! You’ve actually gotten _worse_ at your job. Instead of learning anything you spend your time cheating on your wife. Shave that dead rat off your chin and fucking _use_ your brain for once! It’s that empty gray mass between your ears!”

Cyclone John exploded out of the building, not noticing that he’d left nearly unobserved because every copper in the place had run for cover the second they heard him approach. John walked home to cool down. By the time he was close John rang up his local and ordered fish and chips for two. John went to the chemists and picked up a pack of cigarettes and found a lighter that was shaped like a hand flipping the bird. When you depressed the thumb a flame would shoot out the extended middle finger. _Sherlock would love it._

John went home and found Sherlock still in his room, tea consumed but biscuits untouched. The tall man got up when John urged him to, changed into his robe and slippers before joining his flatmate for dinner. John had even picked up beer. Sherlock drank one without comment and John knew he was in a terrible state. John allowed Sherlock to finished dinner, trying to hold back his anguish when Sherlock put ketchup on his chips. _This was so much worse than John ever could have imagined! He didn’t know what he would have done if Sherlock had asked for gravy as well!_ The instant the man’s plate was cleared John presented Sherlock with the pack of cigarettes and the novelty lighter. Sherlock brightened and gave John a happy squeeze before simply taking himself out to the fire-escape without a word of thanks. John breathed a sigh of relief. _That had been close_.

Sherlock made himself sick by smoking four cigarettes in a row but John just made him toast and tea, settling him on the sofa to shout at the telly until the detective fell asleep. Draping their stolen shock blanket over the man John petted his head fondly before retiring for the night.

Lestrade had the balls to text Sherlock a case request the very next day. John smiled when Sherlock glanced at it. “Not even a three.” and refused to reply. It could have been a solid ten and Sherlock wouldn’t reply and John made no effort to sway him. John wasn’t best friends with New Scotland Yard. He was best friends with Sherlock Holmes. They could kiss John’s arse after what happened yesterday! “John, let’s go out today.”

“Right, let me get my coat.” John and Sherlock rode the Tube and went touring around London. Sherlock was the best sort of tour-guide. He knew London better than any living person and he took John to one gruesome historical crime scene after another and John was entirely fascinated by the entire day. Both men joked and laughed with one another, splitting an order of food from a street-vendor because Sherlock still wasn’t feeling up to par, before wandering through one museum after another until the doors were closed. Neither man had bothered to check their mobiles which had stayed in their pockets, switched off.

They ordered Thai when they got home and Sherlock snuggled right up to John as they ate on the sofa. John didn’t mind. Whatever it took to make his best friend happy, John was willing to do. They spent days like that, taking a holiday in London, eating at pubs, fast-food restaurants and street-vendors and just soaking the ancient city in. It was relaxing for both of them.

Sherlock and John both received one request after another from Lestrade and twice from Dimmock. They ignored all of them. NSY were the professionals after all, let them do their own job since they had no respect for Sherlock’s skill and expertise. There were a couple of cases offered on John’s blog but most of them were joke offers relating to the amusing video which Sherlock and John had both watched and laughed at a hundred times by now. When the sequel came out they laughed just as much. Sherlock was reading his way through his massive list and kept telling John the ending of the one’s he’d gotten through. “They are very detailed John. You should read some. Positively educational.”

The parodies were incredibly clever and both John and Sherlock didn’t blame their existence for the change in their world. The first one had been around for a bit and had not negatively impacted them though John had come to realize that its existence was the reason he’d been stood up so very often. John didn’t even argue anymore when people assumed they were a couple. There was no point. No one ever listened. Instead John had eased Sherlock back into regular food and had made a nice stir-fry for dinner. John had just cleared everything away and was making some after-dinner tea when Mycroft walked in. “Knocking would be entirely acceptable Mycroft.” grouched John.

“If I waited for you to answer the door whenever I call I’m entirely positive that I’d spend all my time waiting at the door.” Well Mycroft wasn’t wrong. John didn’t care much for Sherlock’s brother, a fact which endeared the doctor even more to the lanky detective who loathed his only sibling. John still made a note to install a dead-bolt so people would stop just walking into their home without pause.

“What do you want, brother?” said Sherlock, the boredom in his voice up to maximum. He had John’s laptop open and John nearly laughed when he realized Sherlock had gone back to reading the Johnlock fan-fiction he’d become addicted to. John smiled to himself as Sherlock aggravated Mycroft by ignoring him.

“Gregory has several cases for you but you haven’t answered any of his calls or texts. This is concerning so I agreed to stop by to make sure things were well before you started the case.” Mycroft looked expectantly down at Sherlock who didn’t twitch.

“No.” was all the younger man said who kept reading fan-fiction. He’d also installed a cartoon of both of them dancing which had annoying disco music which was suddenly blaring from John’s laptop. Sherlock continued to not look at his brother.

“I believe you mean _yes_ Sherlock.” said Mycroft implacably. He gripped his umbrella a bit tighter and looked annoyed when Sherlock just sat there.

“I’m positive I meant _no_ Mycroft.” Sherlock turned his back on his brother, laying on the sofa obstinately and refusing to look around.

Mycroft actually scolded his little brother like he was a child, “Sherlock Holmes you are going to get up, get dressed and go assist Gregory right this instant! He’s worked very hard to make you a place and I think you have been self-indulgent for far too long! You’ve sulked long enough. If you don’t do as I have asked I will be forced to rescind all the privileges you have been granted through your Trust and…” Mycroft stopped speaking because he was now on the floor holding his bleeding nose in astonishment. John was standing between Mycroft and Sherlock and he was in a rage again.

“Mycroft Holmes you really are the limit! Your lover is more important to you than your only brother, just like your job is more important, just like everything is more important except for when you feel like reminding Sherlock how much you control his life. Well that’s done now Mycroft and if you have a problem with letting go then as a doctor I’d be more than happy to surgically remove your hand in order to assist. I know for a fact that the Trust is over and you are illegally lingering by continuing your choke-hold on Sherlock’s inheritance, a fact that your _mother_ and I have been dealing with. She says hi by the way and wants you to call more often. Why don’t you fuck off right now Mycroft before I break your nose instead of just giving you a bleeder? If and when we decide to return Lestrade’s call I’m sure your lover will let you know!” In case Mycroft hadn’t understood John grabbed up his umbrella and threw it down the stairwell. Mycroft left in a huff but a silent one.

Sherlock was sitting on the sofa and looking at John with a crooked smile on his face, “That was incredible John. You just punched the British Government right in the face. Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

“He’s an arse! Your mum really does want him to call. You know I speak to her more than either of you?” Mrs. Holmes used John to check on her boys, John being the one stable point between all of them. John understood her concerns and always texted her back promptly when she had a worry.

“I think we should go back to Work John but not because Mycroft said I had to. I’m not happy with Lestrade and the rest but the victims aren’t responsible for the idiocy of the Yard. I made my way up from being a junkie, and I’m not letting one bad day stop me keep me from The Work any longer.” John nodded. He made up a couple of sandwiches, stuck two apples in his pocket while Sherlock re-dressed. Before they left John looked up at Sherlock before stepping in for a long tight hug. The tall man needed one, “You’re a good man Sherlock, a better man than most.”

When they swept into the building there was a _lot_ of respectful silence when Sherlock was spotted. He noticed of course but said nothing. When they got to Lestrade’s office they found a stack of case-files waiting for them. Lestrade offered to get them coffee but John shook his head. “I’ll nip down and get some, this stuff here is crap.” Sherlock couldn’t drink the sludge they served at the Yard! John ghosted away, glaring left and right at the penitent faces around him, and left Sherlock with the cases. If John heard a _single_ mocking syllable he was going to go off like a god-damn nuclear bomb.

John stood in line at the coffee shop waiting for the barista to call out his order. John was anxious to return to Sherlock and the level of impatience he experienced actually caught John by surprise. The last few days had been incredible. He and Sherlock had spent every minute of the day with each other and there hadn’t been a single rough moment. John had never experienced that before. _Even with Mary, who was probably the most successful relationship John had ever had, John needed to get away for some time alone. He wasn’t built to be with the same person day in and day out. That is, unless that person was Sherlock Holmes_.

John kept thinking about Sherlock on the slow walk back to Lestrade’s office. _Maybe it was time to put some limits on how much cuddling they did_. John rather liked the cuddling though so he wasn’t extremely interested in pursuing that line of thought. He wondered about dating as well, and if he would maintain his moratorium on finding a bed-partner. It would be pretty weird if John ever brought someone home again though but then John kind of shuddered all over at the thought of bringing some random woman back to 221 B. Even the idea of doing so felt peculiar and almost alien. _No, 221 B Baker Street was their sanctum, the place where Sherlock was safe alone with John and they could be themselves together_.

John returned to Sherlock’s side and handed him his coffee. It was sweet, creamy and extra-dark just the way the detective preferred it. John rested his hand on Sherlock’s shoulder for a moment before stationing himself against the wall to wait for Sherlock to look through the files in question. Sherlock looked quietly content and without a word he pulled out the chair next to him. John sat beside Sherlock, and let Sherlock hold his hand while they read through the evidence. The younger man was still upset but was trying so hard to do his job. The least John could do was give him this tiny bit of physical contact to support him. For Sherlock there was nothing John wasn’t prepared to do.

No one seemed to understand Sherlock Holmes. They bought the line he sold them about being a sociopath. _He wasn’t. He was anything but unfeeling. In fact John had discovered that Sherlock felt things so deeply he was forced to keep himself at a distance from most of the world because it affected him so much_. His tight control was mistaken for coldness time and time again but John knew better. _Sociopaths didn’t turn to drugs to shut the world off. Sociopaths didn’t cling to their best friend in the night or even have a best friend_. Sherlock sat straight, “We need to look at the crime scenes.”

John stood up, preparing to leave but Sherlock pulled John in close, and hugged him tight once more. The taller man was trembling a bit, and John tightened his arms automatically around the detective, comforting him as best he could in the limited privacy of Greg’s office. John felt Sherlock drop a kiss onto the top of his head, and the small soldier smiled up at his insane friend, “Anyone says one fucking word the wrong way and we are _leaving_ , alright?”

“Very well John.” replied Sherlock with a little smile. John squeezed him one more time before they left. _Sherlock was being incredibly brave. Not many people would be able to face a potentially embarrassing situation head on the way Sherlock was. He hadn’t deserved the mocking he’d endured the last time he was helping the Yard_. John led the way this time, scowling his way through the building. Sherlock kept close to John and their hands brushed several times. John was extremely tempted to just take it but he didn’t want to fuel the fires of gossip that seemed to stay kindled with the detectives in Greg’s division.

Lestrade was waiting for them, and he tried to have a word with Sherlock who entirely ignored him, and moved onto the scene to begin working. John glowered at the DI, “Keep it shut Greg. You will be down an entire team if you allow those fucking dogs of yours off the leash again.” Lestrade shrank back as did everyone else within ear-shot. John couldn’t see what his face looked like right then but at the moment he had the fearful attention of every Yarder present. More than one dropped their gaze to the ground when John looked directly at them, a shamed flush coloring their cheeks, as if their regrets could repair the damage they had done. John felt no pity and was just waiting for any one of them to cross him. No one did.

Sherlock had a small smile on his face when John finally joined him. Together they went back and forth over the scene, separating the damage done by Anderson who had already tramped over everything like an idiot, and the clues that remained. John was the one who noticed that this scene was very similar to the one they’d done the day the Yarders pooled their collective intelligence. Sherlock looked over everything carefully after John’s observation and with stunning speed unfurled the entire crime out for a near silent Lestrade.

With eyes that darted over to John for permission Lestrade asked Sherlock a few polite questions for clarification before thanking him for his attentions. They left. As they turned onto the street Sherlock said softly, “You threatened him.”

“Possibly, I threatened a lot of people that day.” John hadn’t mentioned his visit to the Yard but Sherlock of course had clearly figured it out. John glanced up at Sherlock who had a bit of a silly grin on. John rather liked it and felt unusually warm. Suddenly Sherlock’s arm was around John’s shoulder, right out in the open, there in the street where absolutely anyone could see him. John didn’t mind and kept walking easily by Sherlock’s side.

They kept walking. Finally well after dark they ended up in a small park that featured a small performance by a local entertainment group. John was interested so they stopped to watch. The shorter man was a bit chilled; John hadn’t planned to be out so late without a different coat or at least a jumper on. Suddenly Sherlock was standing behind him, enfolding John into the generous depths of the Belstaff. It was toasty and John was grateful. Sherlock’s body just radiated heat and John wondered how he managed to be so warm when there wasn’t a spare gram of flesh on him.

They took a taxi home from there. John was grateful again. Sherlock was unusually silent on the ride back, and John put a worried hand on his friend’s knee, “Everything okay?” Sherlock nodded and patted John’s hand, his long fingers curling around John’s smaller ones. John kept his hand where it was. Sherlock kept John’s hand in his even when he paid for the ride, handing the driver a few bills and not waiting for change. He hurried the doctor back up to the flat before he let John go.

“John. We’ve missed something. Something huge!” Sherlock sank into his chair and he had a deeply thoughtful look on his face. John was instantly worried all over again and sat in his chair where he could see Sherlock clearly.

“What? What have we missed? You mean for the case? You solved it,” John checked his mobile, “Lestrade hasn’t called, what then?”

Sherlock looked at John, his brow knitted almost as if he wasn’t sure if he had things straight in his head. “John, I think we’re dating one another, in fact I think we’ve been in a rather serious relationship for ages and haven’t realized it.” Sherlock looked challenging the second John’s mouth opened to automatically deny it. “Even without a sexual component, just think about it for a minute, alright?”

John didn’t really need to but he did as he was asked. _The cuddling, the comfort in the night, the hand-holding, the everything! Everyone everywhere had assumed John and Sherlock were dating. Even John’s ex-girlfriends had thought John was more than slightly over-attached to his flatmate and best friend_. “I’m not gay. I don’t feel that way about you.”

“Really John? We’ve never done anything, how do you really know?” _Well, Sherlock had a point there but John wasn’t sure he was really ready for experimenting with his sexuality all of a sudden. Besides, after weeks and months of snuggles wouldn’t John have gotten at least a little aroused before now?_ “Look John, this is as much a surprise for me as it is for you. I only realized on the ride home but seriously, how many more clues to we need? Literally the entire world sees it.”

“I don’t know! More! Lots more. Lots and lots and lots more! I’m not gay Sherlock and I like to have sex! I haven’t had sex in so long I’m practically a virgin again and nobody knows if you’ve _ever_ had sex so how can you miss it? I’ve never wanted to have sex with a bloke before so where does that leave us? In a sexless but devoted relationship forever? That’s not very fair is it? We’re best friends; can’t we leave it at that?”

“ _No!_ ” roared Sherlock. He was angry now, upset and furious. _“No we can't leave it!”_

“Sherlock!” exclaimed John in surprise.

Sherlock sank back down onto the sofa. He was holding his head and he sound confused, “Ever since I came back things have been slightly off, a little too abrupt, too severe. The only time I ever feel alright is when we’re together. What does that mean John? I feel happy with you. I sleep better knowing you’re close by and at night…well…I can sleep again after. John…” Sherlock sounded so lost, so upset that John couldn’t stop himself from sitting next to him and holding on tight. As soon as he did so John realized Sherlock was right. Except for sex they were most certainly in a relationship.

John was a soldier and he wasn’t afraid of much. He was in a relationship with Sherlock Holmes, and if either man got around to admitting it they’d be able to one day be able to tell people they’d been dating for months, possibly even years, excepting less than a handful of times John had tried to go out for dinner with other people. If sex was all they were missing then gay or not John was going to give this his best effort. He got up, leaned down and kissed Sherlock.

John had expected it to be awkward because he was standing and Sherlock had been sitting on the sofa. What he wasn’t expecting was Sherlock’s mouth to be soft and yielding, for his flavor to be clean and sweet with just the tiniest hint of smoke. He also wasn’t expecting to hear a deep rumbling purr from Sherlock that the doctor could feel vibrate off his breastbone, “John.”

John yanked his head away and in a mirror of one another both men touched their lips with their fingers, amazed and startled. “That felt…odd.”

“Indeed.” agreed Sherlock. Both men eyed one another. “I hadn’t considered actually pursuing a physical relationship. I’ve been most content with the state of things as they have been.”

“Well that’s not really going to work for me Sherlock! I need to have sex and when I date someone they’re the person I normally prefer to have sex with! I admit to being a bit put off by you being a man, but that’s my issue and not yours. I actually…well, that kiss was rather nicer than I expected.”

John made tea. He really needed a hot cuppa. Sherlock followed him into the kitchen and sat, waiting for his cup. John thought hard about their situation. _Surely it couldn’t be that difficult to have sex with another man. Lots of people did it and it seemed to make them very happy. Admittedly Sherlock wasn’t exactly to his taste, not like Jessica or Ava or what was the one before that? Zinnia! That was her name. All of them were thin and pale, had dark shining hair just the way John preferred and all of them had wonderfully lush behinds._

Oh.

Just like Sherlock.

John felt like an idiot. _How many dates of his had been with tall pale brunettes with big behinds?_ When John thought about it his cheeks burned. An overwhelming percentage of his ex-girlfriends fit that description. Before he’d met Sherlock John had preferred women with red-hair.

Finally Sherlock sighed and looked over to John, “I hadn’t planned on ever having sex. I’ve avoided it until now but upon reflection I think that perhaps it’s not the worst idea in the world. A huge percentage of the crimes we solve are sex-related so I’m not exactly ignorant of the mechanics. I’ve just never felt the need to give it a go. In light of the fact that you’re my partner I can’t in all fairness ask you to give up something that I have no personal knowledge about. If you are serious about needing sex I suppose I agree to at least try. I’m warning you though, if I don’t like it we’ll have to think of something else.”

“Well no pressure or anything Sherlock! Thanks for that.” exclaimed John. “You really are a virgin? Seriously?”

“Yes John, is that so difficult to believe? I masturbate, that’s sufficient.” Sherlock sounded definite.

John couldn’t stop himself from exclaiming, “No it’s not! Masturbation is great but it’s not a patch on having actual sex! You can’t just try something once and decide if you like it or not. You didn’t pick up your violin and become an expert in one go, did you? No, sex takes effort and practice. If we’re going to figure this out you’re going to put in as much effort as I will. No laying back and thinking of England!”

“John I am not a hormone driven animal! I’ve spent my entire life avoiding sex and sexual activities. I don’t see how doing the same thing over and over again can possibly improve matters if you don’t like it. The best I can offer is to try and at least tolerate the acts you wish to engage in. That’s it.” Sherlock was trying to end the conversation but John wasn’t done.

“Tolerate? I don’t want you to just _tolerate_ what I do to you! I want you to enjoy it. It sounds to me like you don’t really want to try. Is it me? Well I’m not like the blokes you watch in those videos of yours! I’m just normal. So…whatever Sherlock. I need some air.” John was angry. _Sherlock was being a little too condescending. He was willing to allow John to attempt to give him pleasure but his skepticism over John’s abilities stung_. He stormed away.

Walking through one darkened park after another John felt his heart give a bit of a bitter twang. He kicked himself when he recognized the symptoms. He was heart-sick because Sherlock clearly found him inadequate already. John was short. He wasn’t physically impressive. His features were regular but plain. John’s body wasn’t fit anymore, not like he used to be back in his army days. He was older than Sherlock by several years. There was the whole issue of the scars too; John normally kept his vest on when he had sex with strangers. He didn’t like people seeing the network of marks that criss-crossed nearly every part of him. Sherlock had seen them, of course he had. After five years together and endless stays in the hospital John was fairly sure Sherlock could draw John from head to toe from memory. If he crumpled the paper up afterward he could work in all of John’s wrinkles too.

John sat on a park bench after walking for an hour and felt sorry for himself. _He was doomed to be alone forever; the only one who wanted to be with him was a mentally unstable mad scientist who could barely stand the idea of touching John in the biblical sense. He’d never know anyone in the biblical sense ever again. He may as well donate his penis to science. At least someone would see it, maybe even touch it. It would almost certainly be the only way Sherlock would enjoy it. Maybe John could gift it to him with another fresh box of slides. Then John would be guaranteed Sherlock’s undivided attention. John’s only alternative if Sherlock wouldn’t have sex with him would be to hire prostitutes and John couldn’t afford that. He was screwed or rather, he wasn’t_. He wanted to cry.

John was tired and it was late. He walked home slowly, wanting to put off seeing Sherlock for as long as possible. When he finally made it back to 221 B Sherlock was in his room, door shut firmly. John washed up sadly and got ready for bed. Feeling lonely John managed to fall asleep under his thin blanket.

The screams woke him up only an hour later. _Sherlock!_ Without hesitation John bolted from his bed and made it to Sherlock’s. John slide right under the luxurious coverlet and pulled the hysterical detective tight to him. As with so many nights Sherlock was shaking from head to toe and desperately trying to keep tears from falling. He was wild-eyed and panicking, his long thin arms circling John’s torso as fast as he could as he trembled in John’s arms. John did what he always did, he caught Sherlock’s eyes with his and stroked Sherlock’s cheek tenderly until the man grew still and drowsy. Sherlock barely blinked but kept his eyes on John’s until they fluttered shut and he slept once again, his arms never loosening their ferocious grip.

John wondered if Sherlock would ever tell him about his nightmares. He did the young man the same favor Sherlock had done him and never asked. Sherlock had tended John many nights when John had dreamed of war and never once pried into John’s head. He appreciated that courtesy and remembered. Sherlock was snoring lightly now but John didn’t let him go. Instead he made himself as comfortable as he was able to and allowed himself to doze off uncomfortably.

 _There was something sweet on his lips. Warm. Warm and sweet and wet. Warm, sweet, wet and licking_. John knew he was dreaming as he parted his lips and allowed the sweetness to enter. _It was heaven_. John hoped he never woke up from this tenderly delicious dream. The warmth and sweetness was spreading. It wasn’t just his mouth anymore; it was his jaw, his neck and even his ear! John moaned and heard his name being called. John woke with a start, staring right into Sherlock’s smiling eyes. “I liked that John. We can do that as much as you like.”

John blinked a few times and then scowled. “You were kissing me in my sleep? That’s a little creepy Sherlock!” Sherlock’s scowl now matched John’s and John felt terrible, “No…wait. It’s not creepy at all. I’m being an arse. It was really, really good actually and I thought I was in heaven, seriously.”

Sherlock only looked partially mollified so John pulled him back and gave him a fully-conscious-and-knew-what-he-was-doing good-morning kiss. John didn’t stop until Sherlock couldn’t hold himself up anymore and was lying partially on John; his arms flopped uselessly by his side as John kissed him breathless. Sherlock was flushed and breathing hard when John finally ended it. Sucking on Sherlock’s lush lower lip for a second John pulled back. Sherlock looked dazed and had to close his eyes and rest his head for a minute. “Okay John. I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask.” Silent agreement made the soon-to-be lovers got out of bed and began their day. Once breakfast had been eaten John got ready for work while Sherlock set up some experiments. When John was about to leave Sherlock came over and kissed John softly on the forehead, “I’ll see you later Sherlock.”

Sherlock hesitated for a moment and John realized he wanted more than a peck. Pulling Sherlock down once more John gave him a bruising and searing deep kiss that left Sherlock’s lips red and swollen as they twisted into a goofy grin that spread across his face along with a rather fetching blush. “Have a good day John.”

John did have a good day. _He was free. There was no need for John to worry about finding a date from the selection of women available through the clinic. He had a boyfriend waiting for him at home and it was liberating! Now when Jessica asked after Sherlock John just smiled and said he was fine, just fine because he was._ When the day wound to a close John readied himself to leave. He had a couple of errands to run because John was nothing if not a complete romantic when he was involved.

John went to the Yard and made Lestrade turn over an entire drawer full of cold cases. The flustered DI tried to ask questions and offer an apology to John who snapped at him, “I’m not the one you allowed to be bullied in public Lestrade! Don’t fucking apologize to me! His reputation is still ruined. You put Sherlock off The Work. How badly do you think he must have felt if he seriously considered giving it up? He only devoted thirty years to it; I bet it would be a snap for Sherlock to find something else that interests him as much.” With a glare John left. Not one person in the Yard had come even close to trying to apologize to Sherlock in any way John found acceptable.

John texted Sherlock as he made his way home and received a request for more milk, two different types of biscuits and a particular bottle of wine that was waiting to be picked up the store. John sighed and did his errands, the box of cold cases tucked awkwardly under his arm. When he finally got home he smelled the most delicious odor in the air. The door pulled open as he climbed the last step and a happily smiling Sherlock greeted him. John handed him the wine and received a kiss on the cheek. Sherlock led John to the kitchen where the table had been made up properly for the first time in its entire existence and was laid out with an expensive take-away meal from a fashionable restaurant. “That’s amazing.”

“You haven’t even eaten it yet, this wine will go perfectly with the meal.” John handed Sherlock the box and enjoyed the delighted smile as Sherlock rifled through the cases. “John this is fantastic!”

They sat and enjoyed dinner together and the wine did indeed compliment the richly sauced meal. They retired to the living room after and Sherlock pulled out one case at a time, oohing over the mysteries he discovered and already beginning to pull together masses of ideas and possible solutions. John stuck in a season of Doctor Who and sat on the sofa with Sherlock’s head on his lap. Sherlock read case files while John enjoyed a commentary free session of his favorite show.

They made out. Sherlock set aside his files for a bit and pulled himself into John’s lap to kiss him slowly for an entire episode. Their lips met slowly over and over again, just simply kissing and nothing more. John had never enjoyed kissing as much as he did then. Sherlock was flushed by the time he pulled away and surprised John when he said, “Sleep with me.”

“What?” that was pretty fast.  _Kissing was one thing but sleeping together? That was going pretty damn fast!_

“Just sleep John, don’t be foolish. I’m not ready to have sex but I do think it would be easier for me to accustom myself to the idea if I got used to how it feels to have you close.” well that made sense actually. Sherlock had no idea what any degree of intimacy was like. This was actually a pretty good idea. Also, Sherlock’s bed was one of those super expensive beds, the extra-comfortable-you’d-pay-to-sleep-on-it sorts of beds and John had a hip he needed to consider.

“Okay but pajamas are a requirement. I don’t want our bits rubbing together by accident.” John wasn’t prepared to be skin to skin just yet and from the relief on Sherlock’s face, neither was he. They separated to prepare for bed. Twenty minutes later with freshly scrubbed face, nice minty teeth and a well buttoned set of pajamas John Watson went to bed with Sherlock Holmes.

It was weird.

John was acutely aware that a man lay next to him. Sherlock was shapeless, long and lean without a hint of softness to him. Well, except for two places, Sherlock’s lips and his arse. John thought about that. He’d really enjoyed kissing Sherlock. If he had to grade the quality then his kisses with Sherlock had been the tenderest, sweetest kisses John had ever experienced. John wondered what it would be like to touch Sherlock’s arse. _Was it firm?_ It was plush that was for certain. _Would it be a turn on or a turn off? What if Sherlock got aroused? What would it be like to have his hardness touching him?_ John felt a bit overwhelmed all of a sudden.

Sherlock was no help. After leaving John alone just long enough to make himself entirely uncomfortable the octopus known as Sherlock Holmes wrapped himself around the reluctant doctor and dozed off. He was bony. It was like being hugged by a bag of broomsticks. Sherlock became limp as he fell deeper into sleep and shifted himself a bit. Suddenly John could barely feel Sherlock. He was nestled so neatly against John that all his pointy bits had found soft places to fit against and he was nearly weightless but so very warm.

Sherlock’s head was on John’s bad shoulder but the heat of it soaked in and relaxed the stiffness. It felt kind of nice to have the hard bone of Sherlock’s cranium pressing into it. Sherlock’s hair smelled good too. John wondered where he got his shampoo from. It was probably something that Sherlock formulated himself with some kind of rare plant extracts or bee products. Who knew with Sherlock? John’s mind wondered all kinds of things as he slipped into sleep.

He woke to sweetness again. This time John knew what was going on and allowed Sherlock to kiss him for as long as he wanted. John had no plans for the day. They could lay here for hours if Sherlock wanted and simply kiss every minute away. John was willing, especially when Sherlock experimented a bit with sucking on John’s tongue which made the doctor’s toes curl. Suddenly Sherlock pulled back and looked startled. “What? What’s wrong?”

Sherlock looked uncomfortable but simply said, “I’m aroused John.” and darted his eyes downward. John’s eyes followed and he could see that yes, Sherlock was definitely aroused, impressively so, almost terrifyingly so. _Holy fucking hell what did Sherlock keep in his pants, a live otter?_ “Perhaps I should excuse myself.”

John nodded and ran away. Bolting up to his bedroom he bailed out of Sherlock’s like a coward and left the detective to deal with his morning wood alone. It wasn’t good enough. The interior walls at Baker Street were paper thin. That’s why John only wanked when Sherlock was out which used to be nearly all the time. Now John could clearly hear Sherlock’s panting breaths and soft groans. It went on for quite a while and John was not unaffected. He knew exactly what Sherlock was doing and whether he wanted it to or not John’s cock responded.

With a muffled curse John pulled out his lube and tried to remain quieter than Sherlock as he wanked desperately. John was rough with himself, desperate to just get it over with so he could get on with his day. He listened to Sherlock pant even harder than ever. John couldn’t stop himself from hearing Sherlock’s ecstatic huffs and agonized mutters. Suddenly Sherlock began to swear sulfurously and grunted. There was a short silence then Sherlock moaned, “Ah” and panted some more. John’s cock throbbed and suddenly he was hissing out his orgasm as quietly as he could.

John lay on his cold bed, shaking and sweating. His orgasm had been painfully intense and entirely unsatisfying. He lay there on the covers and held onto his shrinking cock as if he could protect it from what was eventually going to happen to it. John didn’t know what to do. _He wanted to have sex again with someone but if he couldn’t even deal with his lover’s morning erection, how would they ever manage to have sex?_ It was a problem, literally a sticky one.

Breakfast was awkward. Both men knew the other had masturbated and neither man wanted to talk about it. John served up and they ate in uncomfortable silence. When he was done Sherlock said, “Maybe sleeping together was a bit much to ask.”

John felt terrible. _Sherlock hadn’t requested the moon on a string, he’d just wanted to ease slowly into a physical relationship which was purely for John’s sake and John had failed the first test miserably_. He made up his mind instantly, “No, it was a good idea, I think we should keep doing it. Next time though…maybe we could try dealing with things, like, together.”

John’s face wanted to burn off as Sherlock looked at him in astonishment. John’s blush increased in temperature when Sherlock’s eyes wandered down John’s entire body slowly as if drinking it in even though John was fully clothed and not exactly the perfect specimen. The detective swallowed hard and looked back up at John. “I…may be able to manage that.” and Sherlock blushed as hard as John had.

They needed some space to recover but the flat was tiny so they did what they always did and flung themselves deep into the particulars of their lives. Sherlock experimented furiously and John cleaned everywhere fanatically. After a few hours the silence grew comfortable again, especially after John made lunch and tea. By the time dinner rolled around they were back to normal, just hanging around together and getting things done.

It was telly time. Every night John unwound by watching crap telly and Sherlock had become accustomed to joining him. They sat on the sofa as usual and Sherlock cuddled John like he was a giant comfort toy. John had grown to very much enjoy cuddling with Sherlock, he found it relaxing now and soon he was snuggled tight to the detective. Tonight their normal shows were followed with an action movie that had John shouting and yelling along as he always did when he particularly enjoyed something. Sherlock smiled as he watched John more than he watched the show.

When the show finally ended Sherlock clicked the TV off and left the pair of them still on the sofa but in relative darkness. He slithered up John’s torso and kissed him carefully. John felt the breath leave his body when Sherlock’s lips touched his. It was electric.

Sherlock pecked his way over John’s face, the darkness giving him leave to explore without hesitation. Suddenly Sherlock shifted himself, smoothly straddling John’s lap, his knees spread wide as he settled himself down to resume kissing John.

John was blown away. Sherlock’s kisses were like fire. John had never experienced anything like it. Somehow each one lingered. With a moan he grasped Sherlock’s head and brought his lips back to his. Sherlock ate him up. The kiss was hot and wanton, their tongues sliding decadently against the other. Sherlock always tasted so sweet, he was like honey and John couldn’t get enough. “Let’s go to bed John.” whispered Sherlock and John nodded his head, their cheeks pressed together as they panted lightly.

Sherlock took John’s hand and led him back to the bedroom. All the lights were off but they felt their way through the darkness and stripped each other bare. “Not too far John, but I have an idea.” Sherlock got John to lie back on the pillows. John heard the dresser drawer open and then Sherlock was straddling his hips again. Sherlock was hard again and John mostly so. John was acutely aware all over again that it was a man in his lap, a not-too-hairy but still very definitely male person whose testicles were now brushing John’s thigh. John swallowed when he heard Sherlock softly whisper, “I’m going to touch you John and I want you to touch me as well.”

Sherlock felt around for John’s hand. Turning it palm up John felt the cool spill of lube on his skin. A second later he heard the tube click shut and then Sherlock’s long hard fingers were closing around him. John groaned as he hardened completely and fumbled for Sherlock. There was something about how Sherlock’s fingers were so hard, so long that felt absolutely amazing. They were cool too and it just made every single move the younger man make that much more noticeable. As soon as he located Sherlock’s impossibly thick hard shaft John slicked it quickly and then did his best to wrap his fingers all the way round it. He barely succeeded but began to stroke gamely.

It was slow. The angle was strange and John’s hand felt too small and he still had callus on his palm from his gun but it seemed to excite Sherlock no end, “Your fingers John! Oh fuck, they’re perfect.” Sherlock was nearly purring again, this time in sensual enjoyment. John felt a burst of strange pride that his touch excited the man so much and began to stroke with greater confidence. Sherlock groaned deeply and suddenly pressed his cock firmly against John’s. The doctor was startled and his hips jerked upward and both men groaned as he made full contact along the shaft of Sherlock’s cock in one long smooth pass.

John’s brain was going to melt. _He’d never felt anything like that!_ He did it again and once more both men groaned from the pleasure of it. Sherlock’s long fingers wrapped around the both of them, encouraging John’s hand to stay put as much as possible as they began to rut against one another. It was sheer bliss. John found he was gasping and moaning as loudly as Sherlock who had become fairly vocal.

John found himself pushed flat onto his back and Sherlock fisting both their cocks as his hips rammed hard and steadily. John worked his hand over the head of Sherlock’s cock and heard Sherlock’s almost agonized cries even as he felt hot splashes begin to land across his stomach. Sherlock’s finger’s tightened and he jerked hard upward and John lost his ability to make noise.

He’d never orgasmed like this. John felt disconnected with reality, like his body wasn’t capable of dealing with rational thought while his flesh was being torn apart by waves of almost painful pleasure. John was glad the lights were out because he knew his face was being pulled into the oddest looking contortions and he was fairly sure his eyes had crossed for a second as they rolled back. John saw shocks of colors behind his lids when his eyes slammed shut and his back nearly cramped from the severity of his full body tremors.

Sherlock was lying face down beside him and panting like he’d run a hundred miles, ragged and harsh. John could feel the bed shake every few seconds and realized Sherlock was still trembling hard from orgasmic aftershocks. It took a long time for both of them to catch their breaths. John used the tissues by the table to clean himself off roughly and then lay there, totally spent. He knew he should wash but it would be days before he could move again so what could he do?

Sherlock flopped his way over and somehow got himself wrapped around John once more. They said nothing. John felt Sherlock slip into sleep, his body adjusting itself until once again there was a bare feather-weight pressed to his side, soft curls tucked under his chin and a comforting weight crushing his scarred shoulder. John slept.

The next morning was a bit on the crusty side. John woke up achingly hard but painfully in need of both the bathroom and a shower. Sherlock fondled him for a second before pushing John out of bed, “You first.”

With a reluctant grumble John got out of bed and made his way uncomfortably to the bathroom which he really did need desperately. Using the loo was a necessary challenge and afterward John climbed under the hottest shower he could bear and sponged the dried semen off his belly and chest. He’d done a terrible job cleaning up and made a note to invest in wet-wipes. They’d do the trick better than dry tissues. That’s when he realized he fully intended on moving ahead with the whole having-sex-with-Sherlock plan. John was startled.

He was even more startled when Sherlock climbed into the shower with him. “I itch.” was all he said. John got his first full look at Sherlock’s bare body as he was pushed out from under the warm water so Sherlock could shampoo his hair.

John had never witnessed anything so sexy in his life. Sherlock kept his eyes closed and lathered his hair heavily, working his fingers through the soapy curls methodically. He rinsed quickly and John found it nearly impossible to breathe as he watched the soapy foam slide down Sherlock’s alabaster flesh. Sherlock finished his elaborate hair washing eventually and John wondered if he had blinked even once the entire time. He was so hard it hurt and Sherlock was completely unaffected. Well, not at first.

Sherlock opened his eyes and looked down at John. His eyes widened in surprise and then John was a bit amazed at how quickly Sherlock could become erect because it was practically instantaneous. John had to swallow hard. _Sherlock was rather…impressive._ The light was very bright and John could see quite clearly. Sherlock was a big man, everywhere. John was further surprised when he heard Sherlock speak, his voice throaty and raspy, “John I don’t think I can adequately express how infinitely appealing I find your physique. You are absolutely perfect.”

 _What?_ John wasn’t hideous but he was far from perfect! “You’re kidding me.” he said numbly. His brain was sluggish. All he could think about was how much he wanted to rub himself all over Sherlock. John began to drift forward.

“I would never kid about something like that. John, you’re beautifully masculine, dangerous and sexy. You’re a living concealed weapon, small and deadly. I…um…I…oh.” John had reached Sherlock and pressed himself against his hardness. Sherlock shivered all over and his eyes went soft and almost vacant. John reached up and slid his hands over Sherlock’s chest, running his fingertips over the hard nubs of Sherlock’s nipples. The tall man gasped while he spoke shakily, “You’ve saved lives with those hands. You’ve killed with them too. _Oh_!”

Sherlock’s hips bucked of their own volition and John was the one practically purring now, “You like that I can hurt or heal.” Sherlock nodded frantically and John allowed his hands to slide down Sherlock’s chest with teasing slowness. “You know they offered to train me as a sniper but I wanted to become a surgeon.” Sherlock groaned loudly as John’s hands wandered lower and lower. The detective looked almost feverish now. His narrow chest was heaving and he was biting his lower lip hard. When John wrapped his fingers around the throbbing heat of Sherlock’s cock he whispered, “They trained me anyway.”

Sherlock’s cry was loud and echoed all through the room sharply as he came without a stroke. Sherlock crumpled to his knees and panted weakly. When he could speak he said raggedly, “John what did you do to me?” John didn’t answer. He was busy taking care of himself. He was on fire with unsated lust. Sherlock looked up and his eyes dilated. “Fucking Christ.” he swore hoarsely. Getting to his feet Sherlock nearly fell on the doctor and pushed John’s hand away to replace it with his. With long cool fingers Sherlock coaxed John through another powerful orgasm, both men standing under the now cold water and kissing one another in a daze.

Finally they were nearly shivering so they shut the water off and got out. When they were dry and in their robes Sherlock looked at John, “Well I’ve liked everything so far.” Both men burst out laughing. John stepped forward and kissed Sherlock’s smiling lips, enjoying the happy crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Sherlock did have rather incredible eyes, beautiful even. John kissed his mouth again to taste the sweetness one more time.

Still as exciting as it was John wasn’t a young man anymore and he’d just had more orgasms in the last couple of days than he normally managed on his own. He needed a bit of a break. He decided he needed to get the shopping done so as Sherlock worked at the kitchen table John went through the fridge and the cupboards, noting what they were out of and binning anything questionable. Sherlock even came over and volunteered to clear away some of his rather slimy looking body parts. He kissed the back of John’s neck when he made the offer then squeezed John’s bum before kneeling in front of the fridge to clean out the revolting mess. John blushed but was pleased.

When the kitchen was relatively pristine and Sherlock had carried his waste material to the special bin in the alley John washed up and got ready to leave. Sherlock ran back into the flat and stood in front of John. “I want to come with you.”

John’s eyebrows shot up, “Really? You hate shopping!”

Sherlock’s entire face flushed and he actually couldn’t look at John, “Well…yes I do but I like being with you so I want to come.” John thought his face would split in two. He felt incredibly happy and it was almost silly. _It was shopping! Sherlock had gone shopping with John before, it wasn’t new_. Admittedly John normally preferred to leave Sherlock at home when he went to the shops but maybe this time he wouldn’t be deducing everyone around him, revealing affairs and health issues to lines of innocent people.

It was actually a lot of fun. Sherlock used his deductive skills to select the best cuts of meat and find the choicest fruits and vegetables while John shamelessly used the tall man to reach items on the top shelf. Sherlock didn’t mind. When they got to the checkout Sherlock easily used the wretched chip-and-pin machine that John loathed so much. John grumped about that as he bagged their food up and Sherlock just gave him a peck on the head which made John smile.

They’d just gotten everything put away when a very polite text came from Lestrade asking Sherlock to come to a crime scene if he was available. Sherlock looked the details over, “It’s a least a seven John.” John shrugged, they had nothing on for the rest of the day and it was still early. A seven might not take that long, depending on what Sherlock found. Sherlock grinned and John grinned right back at him. Blood pumping through their veins as they got John’s gun and Sherlock’s coat the two men thundered away from Baker Street.

It was a great afternoon. A man had been apparently murdered two days ago. His body had been found by the building manager, a fearful bash across the top of the victim’s head. The apartment was locked from the inside and was an interior room with no windows anywhere. Sherlock looked around carefully while NSY kept a weeping neighbor from checking to see if her friend was really dead. Anderson was on scene and he was hypothesizing wildly about lock-picks and possible gang-related violence. The weeping woman sounded outraged at his suggestions and began to shout at him, pointing at Sherlock working methodically around the room in silence. John looked down at a feather duster on the floor, “Poor bloke was cleaning.”

Suddenly Sherlock reached straight up and flicked a hidden catch on one of the ceiling panels which he could barely reach. Out crashed a long retracting ladder that led to a small storage area in the mezzanine. It stabbed viciously downward, barely missing Sherlock’s head before slamming itself closed again and shutting. Sherlock wiggle the tab gently and it happened all over again. “Not murder, accident. The hardware is defective. As John pointed out, he was cleaning. He must have brushed the mechanism and he was brained by the ladder. He fell back and died on the spot.” Sherlock caught the vengeful ladder as he triggered it a third time. John looked at the bottom of the last rung. It had a patch of blood and some hair on it. “Well done John.”

John smiled at his friend and saw that Sherlock was giving him that look, the one he always gave John when he’d done something unintentionally clever. When they’d first met Sherlock had called John his ‘conductor of light’ which was a nice way of saying that Sherlock’s brilliance was sometimes triggered by John’s inane commentary. John wanted to kiss that smile but settled for a cheeky wink instead. Sherlock looked down at the DI coldly, “John will send our bill to your office, we expect it to be dealt with promptly.” and left the gaping man to stand there, astonished.

As soon as they were far enough away John began to giggle, “We’ve never charged them before! Why now?”

“John, clearly they do not appreciate the many favors I have done them. Certainly I have been selfishly motivated to assist but working with the Yard does take up a lot of our time, unpaid time might I add whilst you and I are forced to make ends meet by doing less interesting but paid work and you can’t find time to work at the clinic as often as you’d like. You’re a very good doctor John. If the Yard doesn’t appreciate free favors then perhaps they’ll appreciate the attentions of a highly paid professional because our help is going to cost them from now on.”

“I could work with you less and at the clinic more if that’s what you’re worried about.” John didn’t mind only working one or two shifts a week. He had such a good time doing The Work he didn’t mind letting his medical career take a back seat.

“John, don’t be silly, that’s an awful solution. I said you’re a good doctor and that you like it, not that I did. I hate you working at the clinic. It seriously cuts into the time you should be spending with me but you _are_ an excellent physician, one of the best and it would be incredibly selfish, even for me, to demand that you give it up entirely. Would you give it up entirely, since we’re discussing it?” He sounded so hopeful that John had to laugh.

“I’d really have to think about that Sherlock, a lot, no pressuring me to decide immediately! I know you. I promise to think about it though. Let’s see what happens when the Yard gets our bill. Come on, we have to make one to give to them.” John and Sherlock sat at John’s laptop, the detective draping his arm around the doctor’s shoulders easily. It was a lot of fun. They argued over how to charge and the amount. In the end they decided they needed to charge on a case-by-case basis just like they did with their other clients and simply billed NSY the same amount they’d need to pay Greg to be on scene but twice over. After all, there were two of them.

Sherlock made a single change to the bill. Normally clients simply paid Sherlock directly but this time Sherlock added John’s name right next to his. “We’re a team John, together, right?”

“That’s right Sherlock.” John felt very happy with the small addition. Without hesitation he sent the bill directly to Lestrade. He kissed Sherlock and both men smiled, “Any second now.” breathed John and Sherlock shivered.

Sherlock’s mobile rang and John barked out a laugh when Sherlock answered and began a spirited argument with Lestrade about costs, “Then don’t call us if you can’t afford it Lestrade. I’ve worked for your division unpaid for a decade now; I think that’s enough free samples don’t you? Thanks to your pranksters my client list has nearly disappeared so if you want my help it’s going to cost. John gets grouchy if he isn’t fed regularly so I need the money. Should I send him round to discuss the bill? No? My, that was vehement. Fine, John will stay here and we can expect a cheque when? Ah good. I’ll arrange an automatic-payment deal with your financial department then shall I? Good. Lovely working with you Lestrade!”

Sherlock looked highly satisfied when he ended the call. “Let’s go for a walk Sherlock.” It was a lovely day and it was still early in the evening. Sherlock nodded so they got back into their coats and strolled out of the flat together. They wandered through the parks for a long time before making their way back to Angelo’s for dinner. Arguing the whole time they ordered John forced Sherlock to choose a meal that wasn’t just garlic toast while Angelo himself set a brand-new candle in front of them and immediately brought them a bottle of wine that Sherlock favored. Everyone was happy.

Sherlock was half-way through his meal when he just said, “I like that you make me eat even when I don’t want to. You’ve always done it and only because you’re concerned about me, you don’t expect anything back. I like that. No one else ever bothered themselves for long.” He kept eating and John smiled into his pasta as they enjoyed the rest of their meal. Angelo refused to let them pay yet again so John left a large tip and took Sherlock for another walk.

As they strolled along the dimly lit streets John just said, “I kind of like how rude you are to people. You say everything most people wish they could say but never do. It can be harsh but nearly every time it’s exactly what that person needed to hear. I like it.” Sherlock’s hand brushed John’s and the soldier took it in his, their stride not halting at all as they continued to walk side by side in the growing darkness.

When they got home John made tea. Sherlock puttered around the flat, going here and there almost randomly until tea was ready and John called him back to the living room. When they had settled down Sherlock looked seriously at John. “I’d like to try John. Tonight.”

John had to put his cup down. “Seriously? Tonight? Why?”

Sherlock looked at John, “I have appreciated the pace you have allowed me to keep but inevitably we will be crossing all the lines. All factors considered I feel that tonight would be optimal. We both feel unusually affectionate, we have no pressing case before us, you are off for at least two days from the clinic and we’ve had a pleasant and for us, very romantic day.”

John was suddenly incredibly nervous. Sherlock wanted to try to have actual sex tonight. John didn’t know if he was ready to have penetrative sex with a man. It involved doing…things. Up until now it hadn’t been dissimilar from masturbation, which John was very comfortable with but this…all the way sex? Would John even be good at it or would his nerves get the better of him, causing him to fail spectacularly. He had only _one_ chance to impress Sherlock. _He’d never get a first-time experience with him ever again_. John needed more than tea. His fingers trembled. He needed to compromise somehow.

“How about this, we go to bed and begin, but only take it as far as we’re both comfortable with. That way if you find you aren’t ready then you can just tell me to stop and I will, or, the other way round.” John watched Sherlock almost fearfully. He was very sensitive and John didn’t want him to take his suggestion the wrong way but both men were relieved.

“Thank you John that would be most acceptable. I am willing of course but you do understand that I haven’t done it before and am therefore a little hesitant.” John breathed another sigh of relief. Sherlock was indeed inexperienced so they couldn’t exactly rush through the process. John knew technically what needed to be done; he was a doctor of course. He wasn’t ignorant but much like Sherlock all his information was theoretical and not practical. This could turn out badly.

At the end of the day though John was always a soldier and when presented with a challenge he never backed down. It just wasn’t in him. Nerves notwithstanding John stood up and looked down at Sherlock, “Let’s start with a shower.”

Sherlock let John take him to the bathroom where they stripped off silently, letting their clothes drop piece at a time to the floor until both of them were bare. John got the shower going and while they waited for the hot water to eventually kick in they brushed their teeth, also in silence. Not dawdling they climbed into the shower as soon as they could and washed down separately. John needed to do something to get them both started, if they kept up this way they’d never have sex. They needed to get comfortable with one another again. “Let me wash your hair.”

This ended up requiring John to press right up to Sherlock’s back so he could reach. It was rather nice. Sherlock’s bottom was firm and lovely, sweetly rounded and John felt himself stir as the soap and water sluiced down between them.

Sherlock insisted on returning the favor and though it wasn’t strictly necessary he also pressed his long hard body up tight against John’s back, his long fingers combing through John’s short hair meticulously. John felt his whole body grow warmer when Sherlock’s body grew that much harder. They needed to get out of here but Sherlock wasn’t done. Instead the wicked man filled a flannel with body wash and slowly stroked it over John, once again cleaning him thoroughly from head to toe. When he was finished all of John’s hesitations had entirely fled.

It was John’s turn. He decided to pay extra close attention to the places he wanted to put his lips. That turned out to be everywhere so when John was eventually done Sherlock was scrubbed pink from head to toe and his eyes were nearly black with desire. John wondered if there was any color left in his eyes either because it was all he could do to contain himself.

They kissed and everything rational in John went away. Somehow they got out and dried off but John was so focused he almost missed the transition from bathroom to bedroom because he didn’t really come to his senses until the soft sheet touched his back. Sherlock was kissing him still. A long cool hand drifted down John’s ribs, caressed his waist and then slipped gently beneath the doctor to cup his behind, “I want you John. I want to take you.”

John began to breathe hard. They hadn’t discussed this. John had somehow assumed he would be the one topping. It wasn’t that he was against both of them taking turns or however it worked out but Sherlock was _huge_ and John was not a big man. There was a serious size differential to be considered. Even the man’s fingers were gigantic compared to John’s. John felt himself tense up everywhere and Sherlock pulled back. John didn’t let him go far, “Go slow.”

Sherlock looked at John’s unflinching gaze. The doctor was nervous certainly but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. Sherlock would be in his place had John topped and John would have been slow and gentle as well. Moreover John trusted Sherlock, trusted him with his life. He trusted him with this and it showed. Sherlock relaxed and smiled, “I promise John.”

He went slow. They kissed for a long time, Sherlock allowing John to relax once again. Both men felt awkward and unsure but with a little trial and error they sorted things out. Eventually though both men were writhing against one another, hard and hungry for more than kisses. Hands slid down sweat slicked skin to explore and tease, Sherlock boldly reaching beneath John once again to allow his hand to familiarize itself with John. Both men groaned.

John had never been touched there by anyone except medical professionals for strictly medical reasons. John had never encouraged his lovers to touch him like this and as far as John could recall, none of them had ever asked to. Sherlock didn’t ask. He just did it. Curious fingers swirled delicately over that tiny circle of sensitive flesh and John bucked a bit. Sherlock just kissed him again and allowed his finger to swirl gently one more time before he pulled away. Sherlock retrieved a bottle of lube and a condom. John picked up the condom and put it back in the drawer. “You’re clean. I’ve seen your blood-work. I’m clean, I know for a fact you stole a sample two weeks ago.”

Sherlock bit his lip but smiled. John knew what the pin-prick mark on his inner arm had been and knew that sometime in the night Sherlock had taken a blood-sample so John could be tested. It wasn’t the first time Sherlock had pinched blood or hair and one night John had caught him taking careful fingernail clippings. “It’s for science John.” was all he would say. Sherlock never harmed John and after all this time together John was completely unsurprised.

The kisses continued but now Sherlock trailed his lips down John’s neck, lipping his way lower and lower. John rather enjoyed the feel of Sherlock’s mouth on his skin and he couldn’t help releasing a soft moan when that curl covered head paused at John’s nipples. _Sherlock had a wicked tongue!_

They paused to arrange themselves. John allowed Sherlock to tuck a pillow under his hips. It felt very strange to have his thighs spread in such a manner but the look that Sherlock gave him made John feel warm and a wee bit naughty. Sherlock looked hungry, ravenous even. He looked like he wanted to eat up every bite of John Watson or die trying. It was very flattering and more than a little arousing to see Sherlock’s breathing become harsher and his eyes to become almost predatory.

Sherlock might have been inexperienced but he certainly had worked a lot of things out! With hot kisses dotted all over John’s lower belly and pelvis Sherlock began to work one heavily slicked finger into John. John resisted for a moment but just when it was getting uncomfortable Sherlock shocked John by going down on him.

Sherlock’s mouth!

Sherlock’s _incredible_ mouth!

John’s dates rarely wanted to perform oral sex. John had only met a precious few that ever offered and not all of them were particularly good at it and some of them had only been half-heartedly willing. It was never bad but it had also _never_ been like this! John made some kind of strange moaning sound, one that probably convinced people up and down the street that an animal was being tortured slowly. In a way one was because Sherlock was slow and deliberate. He managed to take and re-take John, sucking and lapping at him until John realized that one finger had become two with a third joining it. John didn’t care. Sherlock could stuff his entire arm up John’s bum as long as he didn’t remove that mouth from his cock!

After a vacation in heaven John came to understand that three of Sherlock’s fingers had been pumping in and out of him for some time and that the detective was moaning nearly as hard as John but with an infinitely greater degree of distressed urgency. “Come on Sherlock! Now!” urged John. He could do this. _They_ could do this.

Sherlock moved away, his mouth red and shining with moisture. John pulled him forward to kiss him hard, “That was just fucking incredible.” Sherlock smiled but pulled back, his desires driving him to continue. John could see that Sherlock was dripping and dangerously dark in color. He was almost too stimulated. John took the lube and stroked it over Sherlock’s cock. He was so hot and the pre-cum slide as smoothly as the lube. John enjoyed the feel of Sherlock and liked the sound he made when John moved up and down that impossibly thick shaft.

Sherlock lined himself up, arching over to kiss John ardently, “I’ll be careful John. I’d never hurt you, never hurt you. You mean far too much…god I want you!” John braced himself as he felt with blunt head of Sherlock’s cock push against his entrance. Forcing himself to relax John couldn’t help a distressed yelp when Sherlock had to rock his hips hard to push the head in. It didn’t exactly hurt but Sherlock wasn’t tapered in shape so when he was in, even only an inch or two John felt stretched enough to tear at the slightest wrong move. “Stop! God, stop!” Sherlock tried to pull out but that’s not what John meant, “Just…wait…let me adjust.”

 _It burned a bit. It felt strange and alien. There was a bit of pain too, sharp slivers of agony that came and went. John desperately wanted to push Sherlock out but he couldn’t let himself give up so easily._ Bravely John let his muscles loosen and Sherlock pressed deeper. _So deep. He must be up to the middle of John’s spine by now! Oh god his internal organs were being rearranged! Mother fucking Christ what was that?_ Sherlock had angled just right and had slid his cock right over the sensitive bundle of nerves placed deep inside John. All discomfort vanished and John moaned again as his body filled with endorphins. “Oh yes John!” groaned Sherlock who was being drawn in until he could go no further. Both men panted as they realized they had done it. Sherlock was in!

The detective kissed John. His mouth was sweet and hot and it took away any thought of distress that might have lingered. His hips began to move with delicacy and they breathed each other in as Sherlock began to make love to John. John’s arms twined around Sherlock’s neck and their mouths were glued together. John felt so hot. Each thrust added to the friction that was building inside him until John knew he would eventually burst into flame. The feel of Sherlock’s cock inside him was revelatory. It made John ache but not with pain but with the anticipation of pleasure. John could feel Sherlock’s heart racing and knew the man wasn’t going to last.

Just that thought alone drove the last of John’s fears away. He urged Sherlock to ride him harder and the sensations that began to build threatened to destroy John with pleasure. There was no pain, none at all. Both men were grunting with each thrust, hands clutching at each other as Sherlock began to drive himself in a quick and steady rhythm. His long hand wrapped around John’s cock and began to pull steadily. John was groaning now and he was going to fucking die! Suddenly Sherlock’s gasps became long shuddering cries and then he shouted, “I love you John! Fuck, I love you!”

John’s orgasm tore him to pieces. He couldn’t speak. Hot waves of pleasure rolled through him and he could feel himself spasming in Sherlock’s hand, felt the come leak down back onto his belly as Sherlock emptied himself deep inside John. With a weak sob Sherlock crashed down on top of John, his hips jerking spasmodically.

They lay there like that for a long time. John kept his arms around Sherlock’s neck and let the man recover his breath after he extracted himself delicately from John’s very well used behind. John kissed Sherlock’s jaw and nuzzled his ear and confessed something to both of them, “I love you too.”

 _He did. That’s all they needed to know_. They slept, exhausted and satisfied, nestled in each other’s arms.

The next morning was just a normal morning with the sad exception of John’s bottom being incredibly sore. Sherlock doted on his doctor, kissing him every minute or so and making horrible tea for John to sip. Since he _had_ declared love for his soldier Sherlock did the kind thing and got breakfast from Speedy’s instead of trying to cook for John. When he came back with their food John was grinning at him from the sofa. “Sherlock, look at my blog!”

They’d received a message from the creators of the amusing parody. They assured Sherlock’s fans that the actor in the video was _never_ to be mistaken for the actual Sherlock Holmes who was indeed a real and very talented detective. The message went on to specifically mock Donovan and Anderson for their attack and threw in various other comments about The Yard and its incompetence. The hit count was astounding and their case request file was bursting with requests.

This made both men very happy and they kissed one another gleefully. Sherlock smiled wickedly at John and pulled the doctor over until John was sprawled all over him. Taking John’s hand Sherlock placed it suggestively on his own lush behind. “Yeah?” asked John with a smile? “My turn?”

Sherlock smiled back and chuckled, “You read my body.” With a final laugh they shut off the laptop and went to bed again and life was perfect.

 

**Author's Note:**

> https://vid.me/Calibri_Funtimes is working on a neat project where she reads out portions of fics by various authors. I was approached, a request was made, I flailed happily, and now there is this link to offer. <3 please enjoy an excerpt from this fic.
> 
> https://vid.me/0776


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